


Real Isn't How You Are Made

by hart_and_sole



Category: The Umbrella Academy (TV)
Genre: Gen, Pre-Canon, Tiny Diego Is Tiny (and sweet enough to rot your teeth)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-03
Updated: 2019-03-03
Packaged: 2019-11-08 21:15:20
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,030
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17988644
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hart_and_sole/pseuds/hart_and_sole
Summary: She might not be a real mother, but she feels real to him.





	Real Isn't How You Are Made

 

Diego watched the minute hand creep toward the twelve. He couldn't sleep. When the clock finally said ten, he sighed in relief, then slipped out of bed and opened his door carefully, quietly, peeking outside to make sure no-one was up. All clear, so he clutched his treasure carefully in one hand and crept out, feet bare to keep his footsteps silent. Dad would be with Pogo in the study, door shut. He shouldn't get in trouble if he made it quick.

At ten, Grace had usually finished her chores, but not yet plugged herself in to recharge, so she might have time. He hoped so. He could hear her humming as he approached the gallery; a good sign. Then he saw her hands rise and fall in the familiar pattern of her needlework, and he faltered a little. Maybe he shouldn't bother her.

His foot hit a creaky board as he started to turn to leave, and Grace looked up and smiled. “Diego! What are you doing out of bed?”

His hands twisted around his treasure, clutched behind his back. “I c-c-c -” Diego stopped and let out a frustrated noise. Sometimes it was just better to shut up instead if the words didn't want to come out right. Better than looking stupid.

Grace set down her embroidery and knelt before him, putting her hands on his shoulders. “Take your time. Picture the word you want in your mind.”

Diego took a deep breath. Grace looked at him with nothing but encouragement. “I c-c-couldn't s-sleep! Would you read to me?” The last slipped out as quickly as he could, words almost falling over themselves, before she could voice any objection. He pulled his book out from behind his back, holding it out to her hopefully.

“My, Diego. The Velveteen Rabbit, _again_?” she chided, but fondly, with a smile, and she was already sitting back down and gesturing for him to follow. 

Diego grinned and clambered into her lap. “It's my favourite.” The book and how close she let him be while she read to him. She wasn't warm, not like the other nannies, or at least her skin wasn't. But her arms cradled him between them as she settled the book in front of them both, and her chin rested on his shoulder, and he could feel her smiling against the side of his face. Like a real mother, and none of the others could do that. He sighed in contentment and relaxed into her as she began to read.

“There was once a velveteen rabbit, and in the beginning he really was splendid...”

Dad didn't get why he loved Grace. He tried to explain that she was a machine, that she wasn't capable of real emotion; that he might as well have feelings for the toaster. Diego didn't care. She  _felt_ real. She smiled and she hugged and she comforted. She always knew what he wanted or needed to hear. Nothing was ever too much trouble for her. He felt like he might be  _enough_ when he was with her. Not like with Luther, or dad.

When she held him like this, like he mattered just for his own sake, and cared enough to know his favourite book, he wondered if this was what the kids he saw in the park with their parents felt like all the time, not just moments stolen from training like he and his siblings had. 

“"Real isn't how you are made," said the Skin Horse.” There was no breath to skim his skin as Grace read, but her voice was warm. “"It's a thing that happens to you. When a child loves you for a long, long time, not just to play with, but _really_ loves you, then you become Real."”

He knew it was just a story. Luther thought Diego was being stupid, when he insisted that Grace was more than what they said she was. He knew it was a story, but she was more than a machine, he _knew_ it, and part of him just...hoped. She  _acted_ like she loved him, and part of him couldn't help but hope that if he loved her hard enough, and for long enough, it would become real. She'd cared enough to give them real  _names_ . That had to mean  _something_ .

For now though, she was the best thing he'd ever known, and it was enough. He blinked sleepily down at the book's illustrations as Grace's voice described the velveteen rabbit's transformation, and the final meeting with the boy who made him real. He yawned hugely, flinching when he went to rub his eyes with the palm he'd forgotten was injured.

Grace held his hand in hers and inspected it gently. “Oh dear.”

He wriggled in shame, head down. “My knife s-slipped again.” He wished dad would let him practice with his darts; he was just too clumsy with the knives. He could hit what dad wanted him to, but they were so sharp in his hands. Dad did not think darts were an “appropriate tool to stop criminals,” so he'd just have to keep cutting himself until he got better. 

Grace pressed a kiss onto his palm, then produced a band-aid from her apron and put it on him. “We'll see about teaching you a better handhold in the morning. Maybe I can sew you a pair of gloves!”

He startled as she rose suddenly, shifting her arms to lift him with her. “For now, it's time to go to bed, Diego.”

He was sleepy now, so he just nodded. She carried him to bed and tucked him in, setting the book by his bed. Just as she turned to go, he whispered, “Can I call you mom?” He hadn't meant to. It was stupid. Dad would never let –

Grace looked almost surprised, he could swear it, but then a smile, soft and different from the ones she usually smiled, appeared. Maybe it was a real one. “Of course. Goodnight, Diego.” 

“Night, mom.” It felt like the right word. She might not be a mom like other kids', but she was his, Diego thought with contentment as he drifted off into sleep.

 

 

 

 

 


End file.
